


Coition

by Animegirl300



Category: Axis Powers Hetalia, Hetalia - Fandom, Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: FrUs - Freeform, M/M, UKUS, USUK - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-18
Updated: 2013-11-17
Packaged: 2018-01-01 22:36:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 20,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1049362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Animegirl300/pseuds/Animegirl300
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>UsUk. Arthur Kirkland now lives with his deadbeat high school boyfriend after he ran away from home two years ago. Being under-educated he works at a Pele's Hideaway, a place of ill repute camouflaged as a bar. Is this what the rest of his life will amount to? Or will he be able to find true happiness in the form of a friendly American?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

In his two-piece black and pink lingerie, Arthur turned back and forth to appraise himself against the long white mirror in his bedroom, and fiddled with the hanging ribbons nervously. He preferred the other colors to such a bright one as pink, however there was no helping it at this point, he thought as he glanced at the clock on the next wall. It was mid evening and if he didn't hurry along he would be late for work. With a sigh he stuffed everything back into his tiny closet, and had to climb over the bed to grab the belt and wallet he'd left on his nightstand before grabbing his other clothes. As he pulled on the green sweater vest over his dress shirt he thought it was ironic how he looked now; anybody on the street would never guess his profession, the fact he hadn't even finished high school, or that he lived in a cramped trailer along with his high school beau. 'Speaking of Charlie' he thought unhappily; that was another reason to hurry off.

With a sigh at his messy hair that he never could quite tame anyway, he tore his gaze from the mirror and hurried out his cramped bedroom through his cramped kitchen and to the front door.

As he locked the door behind him, he gave a wistful smile at the setting sun that crawled its way down the horizon, half lost behind the trees planted around the trailer park. At least it was still warm outside. He did not want to deal with the freezing cold he knew he was not prepared for. He was still a bit away from his goal to that new coat he wanted, and Charlie was not helping their situation either. Every time he was close to saving up for it, the other boy would have found some way to blow their cash; if he wasn't spending it, it would be for some stupid fee, and once it had been bail, which had taken a lot more than his coat money…

He bit a nail as he stood at the bus stop at the end of his lot.

But such was love he presumed. Even if Charlie had the habit of causing trouble for him, Charlie needed him, and as lovers they were supposed to support and care for each other. That was what they promised when they'd bought the trailer three years ago.

The bus had arrived while he'd been musing, and he laid the side of his head against the window to look out at the dark forms outside as he thought about where his life had gone skewed.

When he was a child his parents always held the assumption that although he was the exact opposite of his rough and tumble older brothers, preferring reading and sketching to sports and camping, and having taken up needling point as a hobby that his grandmother had taught him, he would grow up to be just as normal as the next boy. However around middle school when he figured out where his feelings aligned, they were not the most supportive of his choices to say the least. Instead they had completely uprooted their family all the way from Birmingham, England to the states in Salt Lake City, Utah. It had been very strange moving across an entire ocean and halfway over this country, but he and his brothers adapted well enough. But then Arthur's 'problem' resurfaced while in his sophomore year of high school. He'd fallen for Charlie then, and for an entire year he'd been able to hide the fact they were dating from his family, but they were still suspicious of him. It wasn't until the end of his junior year, the year after Charlie had graduated that the two decided to run away together. They were old enough, and they both had been working, and they had been so in love.

So they drove in the car that had been Charlie's graduation present, and skipped into Las Vegas. And that is where he'd found himself; a poor, under educated Brit, stuck in Las Vegas, with a deadbeat boyfriend. He sighed as the bus rolled to a halt at his destination, and when he got out he stared at his place of employment, waiting for the next crowd of pedestrians passed by. It was a three story shop with dark tinted windows and a pink neon sign of a beautiful woman's head and the word's "Pele's Hideaway" glowing in yellow. When the last person had past Arthur played with his collar one more time before building up enough energy to move forward and open the door.

"Welcome!" Was the shouted greeting as he walked in; the other ladies of the bar had looked up to greet what they thought was a guest, but then as they recognized Arthur they simply went back to their tasks with a bit of disappointment. They chatted with the few men in the lounge as they sat around on the large plush sofas or at the bar itself, or even in a small circle around a platform on the left where a very conspicuous pole presented itself. They were all scantily dressed; some of the girls didn't even have clothes over their underwear.

"Hello Arthur!" one of the girls said cheerfully.

He waved as he past her and headed past the wooden bar under the doorway decorated with plastic purple stringed curtains. He found his employer who everyone fondly called Madam, having a hearty smoke in the furnished back room with it's large sofa, washing machine and dryer. She was a large woman with long red almost violet hair, cloaked in her usual gypsy styled suit. She had a long cigarette holder in her mouth.

"Arthur honey!" she greeted, batting her heavy fake eyelashes under large splashes of black make up. Her voice was deep as she talked.

"Good Day Madam," he said as he walked past her, covering his nose a bit from the smell of her cigarette, to the little locker covered wall where he and the others kept their things. Technically she wasn't supposed to smoke back here, but it was her establishment. "How has it been today?"

When he opened his locker he found his work shoes at the bottom; a pair of tall black platform sandals. He'd gotten used to wearing them after a while, especially since he didn't have to walk much.

"Oh Arthur! It has been terrible!" She said dramatically waving a hand over her forehead, "It's been dead all day! And earlier, you know Angelica? Earlier some strange man groped her while she was working, and usually she wouldn't really mind, but that man said some terrible things to her and she was so upset! I had to send her home early, poor girl."

"Sounds like a normal evening then." He said with a grin.

Madame was a strange woman; she dressed gaudily, was very loud and vulgar, and the fact she not only ran a bar, but one with such encouragement for their type of work, she was not the most respectable of employers. However, she was very kind, and a huge pushover, and she always made sure 'her girls' and Arthur were well taken care of here. And that was more than he could ask for of her.

"Oh but you'll never guess what Arthur!"

"Hmm?" He grunted distractedly as he stripped himself of his slacks and undid the buttons of his shirt.

"We have a new guy coming in today! Isn't that exciting?"

He glanced at her. This news was rather interesting. Another guy coming to work at the "Hideaway". Previously Arthur had been the only male to work under Madam; but after a while Madam realized how good for business it was to have him around. Not only did Arthur bring in some guests who were into a different thing, whenever he wasn't busy he was helping to keep things around the store organized; written rules for the girls and their customers, helping the Madam budget things for the store, and he also acted as liaison for some of the girls and Madam; when another girl was getting out of hand with her business he was the one sent to handle it since Madam hated conflict.

"Really? What is his name?" He finally decided on asking as he folded his clothes neatly in his locker.

"His name is Francis, and oh! He is so very dreamy! He's French you know? And with such long shiny hair!" Madam clapped to herself happily, and Arthur gave her a fond smile. Honestly.

But he wasn't so sure how he felt about another guy around. Wouldn't that mean a bit more competition for work? And the guy was French after all, he thought with an eyeroll.

He checked over his outfit; playing one last time with the ribbons on the bodice, strapped on the black platform sandals, and grabbed a folder from the desk in the corner. He would worry about the Frenchman later on, he had a shift to cover. With a peck on Madam's cheek he headed up the stairs across from the back room and found his room towards the middle of the hallway. As he clicked on the light he inspected the room; all was where he'd left it last time. All the girls pretty much had their own room to use for their work; and they had to make sure they kept it clean for their guests. Each room had a queen sized bed, two nightstands on either side, a lamp on the left close to the curtained window, and a bathroom on the opposite wall. If he really wanted to, Madam was kind enough that she would let him stay here if needed, but he didn't like the idea of sleeping where he and other strangers did their business. It just didn't feel healthy. Speaking of which, he headed over to the drawer to the right and inspected his stock of contraceptives and lube. He was okay for the night, but in a few weeks he'd probably need to get more.

After making sure everything was presentable he headed down stairs. If he were lucky he wouldn't have too many guests tonight.

Arthur sighed and rolled over on the newly messy bed. Steam from the bathroom had wafted in the rest of the room. His second guest had taken a shower and had just left. Now it was his turn he thought, pushing himself up. He picked up his strewn clothes off the floor and started his third bath for the day. The last two had not been very good, he thought as water cascaded around him. They'd been much too eager and got finished much too fast. It unhappily almost reminded him of Charlie. The last guy hadn't even asked if it would be okay to finish inside of him; even with a condom on the act was no less dirty and disrespectful.

After he felt at least a little less like filth, he turned off the shower and dried his hair as he came back to the room. He needed to clean the sheets. He ripped off the old soiled ones and grabbed a new set to put on the bed, then changed back into his clothes and shoes. It was funny how quickly they always came off. Grabbing the bundle of sheets he listened at his door for a moment; some of the girls were obviously still at work, but he also herd something of a commotion outside; a couple of the girl's voices outside in the hall.

Frowning he opened the door and peered outside; there were a group of girls hanging in their door frames looking down the hall and chattering excitedly.

"-look at his hair!"

"Did you hear his voice?"

"He's so dreamy!"

His eyebrows furrowed together and he squinted and craned his neck to find out what they were talking about; being shorter than most of the other girls did not help, until he saw at the end of the hallway exactly what was causing the excitement. It was a man at the very end of the hallway; he had very long blonde hair, a rather long pointed nose and a goatee over the black leather outfit he was wearing. The shorts were very short and the top looked somewhat like a sleeveless jacket with a metal ring in the front collar.

'So that is Francis.' Arthur thought. He did have to agree that the man was handsome; he even had some well toned biceps, but there was also something in his face and the way he stood that said snobbish and egotistical. Already Arthur was wary of him. It was then that he noticed that Francis wasn't alone; he was talking to another man in front of him. He peered curiously at the man; he was tall with short blonde hair, glasses, and was wearing a plaid dress shirt folded up to the elbows, a blue tie and khaki slacks. With a shrug Arthur turned his gaze away, passing the girls in their doorways and heading down the stairs.

The other man was probably a customer, so it really wasn't any of Arthur's business.

As he entered the backroom he noted that Madam wasn't in the back room, so she may have been in the bar out front.

Some of the others had put their soiled sheets in the laundry basket already so he shoved them all in and was bending over to turn the dial and start it when he heard a cough from behind him. He spun his head at the male's voice and recognized the man from upstairs. Suddenly he also became aware that his rump was up in the air, and especially considering the underwear he had on and he straightened up, feeling his face heat up a little.

"Uh, hello!" The blonde man was saying, scratching at the back of his neck nervously "I- um wanted to know where Madam Hester is? Sorry. Uh, she wasn't up front or anything..."

Avoiding the man's gaze Arthur told the man he'd look for her for him. More than likely Madam was behind the building smoking again; whenever she got tired of staying in one room she liked to feel the breeze while the others were working.

"Ah, I see, thank you though, but I guess I won't bother her then, just wanted to tell her thanks for looking after Francis…"

So he wasn't just a customer then, Arthur thought, his brows moving together on their own as he nodded. He was just about to say something about getting back to work when the man stuck out his hand, giving him a sunny grin.

"Sorry, I'd almost forgotten; My name is Alfred Jones! Pleased to meet you, uh.."

"Arthur." he said as he placed his hand in the other man's and was given a firm handshake.

"Arthur," Jones repeated, flashing a blinding smile "so you really are a guy."

The brit's face turned a deep shade of red and he stepped back to frown angrily.

"Of course I'm a 'guy', you git! Excuse me if you're too slow to tell!"

Alfred put his hands up in defense, laughing happily at the brit.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to offend you! I mean I thought you were from your voice but, uh, I just wanted to make sure…"

Arthur's frown deepened. "Are you insinuating that you couldn't tell just from my looks?"

Alfred's blush, and the way he spluttered to find a good excuse said it all.

"But you can't really blame me can you? It's sorta hard to tell these days you know… everybody looks like something else!"

Arthur's hands went to his hips in a way that left Alfred in no doubt that this was a usual pose for the shorter blonde.

"Hmph! Well, maybe if you have so much trouble telling the difference, you should stop trying to make gender matter so much."

The taller man simply grinned. "I never did say it mattered! I'll have you know I really don't care what a person is, but you know some people do get offended if they get mistaken for something else, that's all."

Although this made a speck of sense to Arthur as he realized that he was being made an example of, the Brit crossed an arm over his chest and scratched at his messy hair as he turned his gaze to the floor.

He was about to say something else, but the sudden appearance of Francis in the doorway put the conversation to a halt.

"Ah Alfred, thank you for waiting! I've found Madam already and am all settled in. This place is fantastic, no?"

"It's no problem Francis. I'm just glad everything's alright." Alfred was saying although Arthur couldn't help but think it sounded forced, he glanced up at the other man's face and something in his expression made it quite less cheerful than before. Not that it was his business either way, Arthur thought, looking away as the French and American chatted. He shifted on his feet, ready to get back upstairs, but Francis was still blocking his way. Apparently though the Frenchman finally noticed Arthur there; "Ah, sorry Alfred," he looked up and down at the Brit and sneered "do you mind, I don't think you were in my friend's and mine conversation."

At first Arthur was shocked, but then just as quickly he was angry! The nerve of the guy!

"I'll have you know I'm not at all interested in your damned conversation! I was just waiting for you to get your slimy self out of the bloody way!"

Francis still sneered as stepped closer to get out the way of the door frame.

"All you needed to do was say so, my dear Englishman, who knew there'd be such rude people running around." he said with a grave face to Alfred who was frowning at Francis uncomfortably.

Arthur had already had enough of the new Frenchman; he stomped past the man in a huff, even as Alfred held out a hand to almost stop the Brit, and Arthur had just reached the stairs and could still hear the conversation as he made his way up;

"What in the world was that Francis,"

The Frenchman shrugged, "I don't like the way he looked at me."

"That doesn't mean piss off random people you don't know! That's what got you in trouble the last time!"

The Frenchman laughed a short long ahon ahon, before draping an arm over the other man's shoulder, "Ah but that is what you like about me, mon ami!"

Arthur was still red in the face when he made it to his room. Francis was a complete and utter douche! And Alfred may be just as bad, he thought as he realized that he'd just been insulted twice in the last 15 minutes! What if despite Alfred's smiling, he really had been making fun of Arthur too? He sighed as he fixed up the bed again; he was also mad at himself for letting it happen. If it had been any other day that stupid frog would have had a bloody nose! That would have taught him! But right now he didn't have much fight in him. His home life sucked, his work life sucked, and now he had another annoyance to get him down. He glanced at the bed morosely, and felt a little bit hollow. He didn't feel like taking anymore guests tonight, instead he decided he would go down and hang out in the bar for a bit. Alcohol would make him feel a bit better.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Ever has it been that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation."  
> ― Kahlil Gibran

By the time Arthur got back home, he already had a massive headache. It was nearly 3 in the morning, he'd spent most of the night drinking with the girls, and during his drunkest, he'd taken another guest. Now he felt worse for it. Charlie wasn't in, he noted as he shuffled through the front door and made his way to the bedroom. That also made him feel worse.

He fell onto the bed and breathed out slowly. He really didn't want to get up. He wish he could just stay there for all eternity, but if he didn't get up every day and pay the rent he wouldn't have this bed for long. He wondered where his boyfriend was drunkenly, although in his sober hours he never tried to think about those possibilities. The longer he avoided the issue the less pain he'd have to go through. He kicked off his loafers and stripped himself of his shirt and vest. He noted for the first time the purple marks on his bare chest and wondered if they were hickeys or if the men had been too rough on him.

Shrugging, he flopped back down and went quickly to sleep.

The sensation of something ice cold and wet being held against his forehead woke him up before Arthur became aware of something touching him in his sleep; first at his arms then all over his chest down to his legs. His eyes snapped awake and for a scary moment he didn't know where he was. Then with a slow sigh he calmed down as he recognized his boyfriend. He had a beer bottle in hand and was trying to pull off Arthurs pants with the other as he leaned over Arthur.

"Charlie, what are you doing?" Arthur said, deadpanned and sleepily.

"Hey babe, I'm home," the black haired man said grinning.

"I can see that, but what the hell are you doing groping me in my sleep!" Arthur snarled. He wouldn't have minded Charlie's touches if only the man had enough sense to wake him up first!

"Come on, don't be like that," Charlie's mouth found it's way to Arthur's collarbone. "You just looked so good sleeping."

Arthur bit his lip as his boyfriend rubbed his body against his. He remembered through the headache how a year ago this would have turned him on, but now he was only annoyed at being woken up at... at whatever bloody hour it was!

"Just quit it already!" Arthur said, pushing Charlie's arms away. Drunk and caught unaware, Charlie fell away on his back, dropping the bottle, and as he struggled to get up he sent Arthur a glare.

"What the hell was that?!" his words slurred.

"You tell me you idiot! I already told you to stop!"

"You… you bitch…" Charlie tried to exclaim, but he had trouble finding the words he wanted. "It's not like... I'm doing... anything you're not used to!" His body swung unbalanced as he even tried to get back on top of the blonde.

Arthur's face went several shades of red in shock and hurt, and as soon as Charlie got closer he sent a punch to the other man's face that sent him back again.

To think that this was the guy he'd spent the last few years of his life taking care of, the same man that was now glaring and trying to force himself on him. When had things changed?

"And whose fault is that!" he screamed, feeling tears already in his eyes, "do you think I like being treated like some sort of animal!? Do you think I like being groped and touched by greasy strangers?!" He felt filthy. He felt disgusting. He shivered as memories came forth of all those men he'd done things with…

"You're the one who... who got the job in the first place!"

There was a pause as his words sung in for Arthur.

"...you bastard..." he whispered his face an expression of shock and hurt. "You horrible, stupid, bastard!"

Then in a rage Arthur jumped on top of Charlie, slapping every part of him that he could reach. The head, his stomach, the face. He hit hard too; his own knuckles were beginning to hurt. The black haired man tried to cover his face with his hands yelling through the haze of alcohol all profanities he could muster.

The tears were now flowing down his face as all his rage and frustration rushed "I only got this bloody job because you're too damned lazy to get one yourself! I'm only working there because I don't have a damned choice! I'm only working there because no other place will hire me!" and then even more painful was the last reason he'd ever taken up working as a dirty whore, "I'm only working there because - you don't love me anymore!"

Then there was silence. Silence as Charlie stopped cursing and moving to protect himself and stared up into Arthur's red and anguished face.

Arthur stopped hitting his boyfriend as he saw the expression of Charlie's face; he pulled himself away from him completely, and now brought his knees to his face, shuddering with each sob.

And the sobs wouldn't stop. He couldn't stop the lurches in his body at each thought of the person who he'd loved betraying him; the memories that looped around in his head, of the times he'd come home smelling unfamiliar perfume in their room, the earrings he'd found on the floor of their home, hairs in different colors in the bathroom and kitchen. For a long time he had suspicions, but it wasn't until that day that he realized Charlie wasn't the loyal loving man he'd thought him to be. The day when he'd come home to find his boyfriend of five years in bed with a woman. In their bed with another woman.

He would never forget that moment and the pain it brought him.

It hurt, the thought of Charlie smiling and laughing with someone else, Charlie holding hands with some stranger down the streets of Las Vegas, of Charlie and some other person kissing in the sunset. It hurt.

How could he?

Why would he?

Where did he go wrong?

What had been so wrong with him?

He sat there, sobbing over his lost life, his lost innocence, and his lost love.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Arthur is a terrible beast, and Francis's beard is attacked.

It took awhile for Arthur to calm himself down. In that time Charlie had left, and Arthur was alone. He stayed there, curled into a ball on the beer stained bed for hours; it was only after the sun had rose and started filtering through the window did Arthur start to straighten out. Sadly he glanced at the picture of his boyfriend, taking in the happy brown eyes and black hair that he'd loved, and turned the frame flat on it's side. It hurt.

'Where would he have gone.'

Probably to find a new side girlfriend, he thought bitterly.

He crawled off the bed, rubbing his cold arms as he sat on the end of it, his feet curled away from the floor and slouching over himself as another shudder swept over him.

He was so tired of crying.

Exhausted, he forced himself to stand, averting his gaze from the mirror, and grabbing the fallen bottle off the floor. This was the cause of half his problems. If Charlie wasn't out drinking all the time, he would have stayed at home more, and none of this would have happened. He stared at it a moment, then in a rush of anger he slammed it against the wall sending shards everywhere, instantly regretting it.

"Shit!"

Now there was another thing he had to clean.

He stepped over the pieces of glass carefully and headed towards the bathroom.

He had never thought it was possible to look as much like shit as he felt, but somehow he'd accomplished it. Not only were his eyes red from tears and lack of sleep, there were heavy bags under his eyes, and his cheeks felt raw.

Not to mention his hair, the bruises on his skin, or the fact he was only in his pants. His boyfriend had been too drunk to even unfasten his belt.

He shuddered again sadly and grabbed his toothbrush. His mouth also tasted like sewage.

He came back with a broom in hand, and managed to prick his finger on the last piece of glass. He sucked on it in pain and threw away the pieces before grabbing up the dirty sheets. He would have to go to the laundromat at some point this week, but right now the numbness of the fight left him too emotionally drained. Absently he wondered if somebody had the sense last night to finish the laundry up at Pele's.

Instead he took his shower and changed into another set of dress shirt tie, slacks, sweater vest and loafers. He also didn't feel like sleep since being in bed would remind him of the emptiness. Instead he grabbed his wallet and keys and headed out to the bus stop.

The sky was beautiful when he went out; there wasn't a cloud in the sky and the direction the sun shone in made all the colors in the trees, grass, and flowers ten times brighter. In front of a neighboring trailer a couple of small children were playing in the sprinklers. Their mother waved to him as he walked by and he'd nodded back to her before joining some of his other neighbors at the bus stop.

"Well hey! If it isn't Sir Arthur!" an older black man by the name of Dennis said in his usual greeting.

Arthur gave him a small smile, more like a tiny pull at his lips, and nodded to the others as well.

There was Mrs. Pince, a little old lady wearing a pink flowered dress and a bonnet over her head for the sun. She was a funny old thing who lived by herself and her little black labradoodle, Chester, who she took everywhere in her large purse.

Next there were two Italians, Feliciano and Lovino Vargas. They worked in the pizzeria a block away from Pele's, and while Felciano was cheerful and airheaded, Lovino was violent tempered and foul mouthed.

A man after Arthur's own heart.

"Oh Ciao~ Mr. Arthur! How are you this wonderful morning? Isn't the sky just beautiful? And all the little birdies are out! I want one but big brother would get mad!"

The Brit simply nodded at Feliciano's rambling. This was a normal greeting from the Italian brother who always seemed to have something happy to say.

"Damn right I'd get mad, you idiotic bastard. What would we need a bird for?" Lovino was saying as the bus came into view down the street.

These were his neighbors, Arthur thought to himself. All of them, excluding Lovino, were just as poor and hardworking as he was, but the empty feeling came again as he realized the others were still happier than him.

He pushed a hand against his tightening chest, leaning his head to watch the trees and streets pass by outside the window.

After an hour in which the two Vargas brothers argued, and Mrs. Pince's dog barked at Feliciano senselessly, leaving the Italian scared. The bus finally made it into the city. Denis waved goodbye as he got off to work at the new construction site.

And Arthur found himself alone.

As they past by the Hideaway, he felt a rush of nausea. Looking at the place, and things he did in it, reminded him more vividly of the fight. He turned away to stare at his watch. He didn't have to go in 'til five, so he had a few more hours to occupy his time.

He rode all the way into town before stopping off in his most favorite part of Vegas: the Library.

As soon as he stepped into the air conditioned building he was comforted by the slightly musty smell of old books and printer ink. At least it soothed the tightening in his chest.

Calmly, he walked past the many aisles as he tried to decide what he was in the mood for. He certainly didn't feel like a romantic novel right now. He contemplated a murder mystery, but it might have given him ideas. So in the end he decided on something adventurous.

As he searched through the aisle he tried to ignore the voice of excited children from the other side of the building. They were doing some sort of demonstration for the little ones.

Fondly it reminded him of the activities they had at the Library in Birmingham. Once they had brought in a tiny case of Madagascan Hissing Cockroaches. The nice man holding the case told them that although they looked gross they were very misunderstood creatures. Of course his brothers hadn't hesitated to hold one, but he remembered running away to hide as soon as the man had brought it out.

Looking back, he'd always been a crybaby.

Some things never changed, he thought.

Finally he decided on a story about a boy who sails across the ocean and makes friends with mermaids out at sea. If he thought there was enough time, he would have picked a bigger book. Instead, he headed to one of the large windows and sat himself down in one of the plush chairs, content to lose himself in a fictional reality. It felt good having something to occupy his thoughts. Sometimes Arthur felt a bit jealous of fictional characters. Yes, they too went through trials and tribulations, but always in a story there would be a way out, some sort of escape from the problems of life. Their problems were bigger, but they felt less personal. And that was something he envied.

"There you are, Arthur, dear!" The Brit looked up as he entered the back room where Madam was smoking again. After he'd finished at the library, he'd grabbed a cup of tea from a shop nearby and was just getting back. The tea wasn't quite like that at home, but it helped to warm him up a bit, to the point where he was feeling less down than that morning.

"Good evening, Madam." He said giving her a peck on the cheek, and grabbing a couple of folders from the desk.

"Oh, how I love how you take such good care of things around here," the old lady was saying.

Since it was a Friday, instead of taking guests, he would be working the front register in the bar. This suited him better since it meant he could empty the inbox of complaints and look over the budget for the month.

In the lounge the girls from the last shift were leaving, and a couple for the new shift were filing in. The girl who'd been running the register for the last shift, Elizabeta looked glad as Arthur said he would relieve her. "Hey Arthur, thanks for being on time," she said with a wink.

The Brit was always on time, and she laughed as he told her as much.

"Yes, but tonight I have plans. Roderich is taking me to the opera tonight!" She said excitedly.

Arthur gave her a smile; he knew Roderich from the time the man appeared at the store red in the face, and demanding that Elizabeta be taken care of properly and respectfully, an interesting command considering where she decided to work. It was the reason Elizabeta only worked the register, although she herself stated that she didn't care what she did, she wanted to keep busy.

Elizabeta was very friendly, but she was tough, which was good for a bartender encountering the type of people they got. She managed to keep them in line, even as her cheerful demeanor kept them buying more and more booze.

"Have fun," he decided to say as she threw off her apron and skipped to the back room for her things.

As evening came, the store became more and more crowded. Men and a few women came in to blow their paychecks on booze and entertainment. Soon the bar was full of customers rambling amongst themselves about the pretty woman at the pole on the other side of the store.

"Refill! Refill!" a couple of guys chanted merrily.

Arthur frowned as he mixed a drink, thinking of the many ways he wanted to bash their faces in, but then a commotion at the door distracted him.

It was none other than Francis.

As he'd entered, a group of the girls had shouted a welcome vying for his attention, and Arthur rolled his eyes as the Frenchman blew kisses to his adoring coworkers. What a wanker.

Following behind Francis was Alfred, who looked around while he held open the door, one hand in his pocket. Arthur still thought the man looked mildly uncomfortable, and wondered about the relationship between those two. If they were dating then he hoped they wouldn't cause any conflicts later on, he thought frowning.

Apparently Francis caught the expression out the corner of his eye as the man turned his head to sneer at Arthur. He sauntered up to the bar, and a couple of the customers, feeling the sudden tension moved out his way, as he leaned over a stool to meet the level of Arthur's gaze.

"Bonjour! If it isn't my little anglais friend."

Although the words were innocent enough, the tone left Arthur in no doubt that he was being insulted. With that he gave Francis the most evil and murderous grin he could muster.  
"Ha! Welcome back frog! I thought I smelled something nasty coming down down the street."

"Ahon ahon ahon hon," laughed the Frenchman, resting his chin against his hand mockingly as he crossed one arm over his chest. "I'm sure what you smell can't be at all as bad as how your eyebrows look, no?"

"At least my nose isn't bigger than my dick! Although," Arthur said looking down at the other man's pants, "in your case that wasn't so hard to accomplish."

The Frenchman's sneer widened although his blue eyes went cold.

"You have jokes, hmm, Angleterre? I'll warn you now, blagueurs easily get stuffed."

Francis may have thought he would win with that threat, but as soon as he'd uttered it he gave a girly shriek as Arthur, the vein in his temple throbbing, grabbed the man by the goatee and pulled the Frenchman down to meet his glare.

"Ah let go! You're going to rip them!"

"Then how about if you take your cheese smelling self and get out of my face."

He pushed Francis back away from him, sneering as the man went over crying to his American companion, who looked torn between amused and pitying.

"He's a beast! A terrible beast!"

Arthur glared down the other people at the bar daring them to say anything else to him, but the men simply drunk their alcohol and avoided his gaze. Fuming, he picked up a glass and began to rub it vigorously.

'That's what I thought.'


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Arthur is a coward, Hero get's out, and Iggycat get's a break.

Alfred was staring at him again.

He could feel it.

Arthur paused in his writing to take a quick glance at the blonde American and

as soon as he looked at that tanned face he saw the pair of sky blue eyes peering up at him;

the man even had the audacity to smile and wave when their gazes met, as though nothing was wrong.

Quickly he tore his eyes away to glare down at the shift report he'd been filling out. Anything to keep himself from looking at that blasted face!

Ever since the earlier hubbub, after which Francis was comforted, and the excitement in the bar was dissolved, Alfred, instead of going home like Arthur would have expected, decided to hang around, plopping down in front of the bar and ordering a drink.

Since then, for the last hour and a half he'd simply sat there, chatting along with the girls in the bar, drink, and in general annoying him with his presence. Because it certainly was his presence that was the most annoying.

After a few minutes however, Arthur decided that this was too annoying, closed the accounting book he was now penning out, with a snap and sent a glare at the american male.

"What" he stated, ignoring the jump of surprise from the taller man, "pray tell, are you staring at me for?"

Blue eyes blinked innocently at him behind glasses.

"Huh?"

"Don't play games with me; you have been incessantly staring at me for the last hour!"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

The grin on Alfred's face only served to annoy the Brit more.

It was later on that Arthur decided to remove himself since he couldn't remove the annoyance, by sitting in one of the plush armchairs a little bit aways from the bar, and thus from Alfred.

He was feeling rather proud of himself too, until, just like a child seeking attention for a petty deed, the man appeared at his side, the weight of him shifting the small chair.

To Alfred the reaction was much akin to a startled cat.

"Gyah! What the hell are you doing?"

"I'm just coming over to sit next to you. After all is was starting to get a bit lonely there, and you would be as good as company as any."

Flabbergasted was the word Arthur would try to find, to describe the feeling rising in his chest as he glared right back at Alfred. How often did he seem to need that expression, he mused?

With a sigh and an extra show of patience, Arthur laid his papers and books on his lap and flattened his hands over them, to breath in, then exhale, before he turned to the other blonde.

"It seems that there is something that you have yet to comprehend-" he started before he was cut immediately off.

"Hey Arthur?"

"- What?!"

"Why don't you seem to like me?" came the sickeningly innocent question that all but halted Arthur's train of thought. Why did he not like Alfred? The question more should have been why Alfred and his idiotic pansy of a friend didn't like him! After all he'd done nothing toward either of them, besides possibly accuse the American of being bigoted and ignorant. Thoughtfully he bit his lip as he decided on a decent answer.

"I suppose my reasoning stems from the opinion that you, yourself, did not very well like me." he admitted with a final shrug.

The O that became Alfred's mouth was almost comical.

"What?! I never said I disliked you Arthur," the man scratched at the back of his neck nervously. "I know we started off rockily enough, what with me mistaking you for a girl, but I really wasn't trying to insult you!"

With that Arthur was surprised further as the man stuck out his hand, a serious look that was well out of character on such a usually cheerful face.

"I want to start over."

"You what?"

"You know! I want to wipe the slate clean, pretend that it never happened before!"

He grabbed the Brit's hand, ignoring the resulting stutters as he shook it.

"Hello! My name is Alfred, it's so nice to meet you! I hope we'll become good friends!"

"What the- you-you idiot! You can't just go and force someone to do over a first meeting!" Arthur's face was red in embarrassment, as several heads in turned towards the excitement.

"Aww, why not?" Alfred said with a pout.

"W-well-,because- it just isn't done! it's rude and-"

"But you said already you only thought I didn't like you and that was the reason you didn't like me, so what's the problem?"

"It's not like-, it's just that…Arg!" Arthur finally caved under the pressure of the onlookers in the bar, and Alfred's very intense gaze. "Fine!"

"Yippee! Hear that Francis? I just made a new friend!" Alfred called the Frenchman who'd previously been cooing at the front door, at a handsome guest who'd just left.

"Well, my dear Alfred, do what you must!" Francis cried in a weary manner that made Arthur roll his eyes. By now Francis well knew that Alfred was incredibly stubborn. So he was also well aware that no matter who the person was, if Alfred decide to make them a friend, neither he, nor the other party would have any say in the matter.

And by the way Alfred grinned at his new 'friend' Arthur became nervously aware of the same thing.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Warning: Some thing happen and other are eluded to. Sorry it's not a complete lemon though. XD]

Arthur tried to ignore the sunlight creeping up the side of his face, behind his eyelids, as he laid in bed. He squinted to block it out, but that only roused him from sleep. Then he tried rolling over, but rolling over only roused him awake.

Defeated, he sat up in bed, yawning, and glanced around his room. Everything was just the way he'd left it last night. His clothes were laid across a chair in the corner. Despite it's size the rest of the room was neat. He found comfort in organization. It was something he could control, and is gave his life some amount of stability when things had a place and were kept there. And he was even more comforted as he realized from the noise of birds and children playing outside what day it was. It was Saturday, he thought with a grin.

No work!

He swung his legs over the side of the bed, and as he went to the bathroom with a set of clean clothes,glancing down the hall at the sofa to see if Charlie was in.

Ever since the fight his boyfriend had made a point in avoiding him. He would come home to an empty trailer, although there'd would be new dishes in the sink, or a new pile of clothes, or blankets left on the sofa, so he knew the man was around. They just never met face to face.

As he got in the shower, water cascading around him, flowing down his back, and through his hair, he wondered if this was how things would be for the rest of his life.

Being completely ignored may have hurt more than Charlie's infidelity.

After his shower he'd looked forward to a nice breakfast, that he surely wouldn't burn, but as he searched the fridge, he realized they were out of eggs, milk, cheese, even the ham and bacon… anything to make the omelette that'd been in his head. And his frown narrowed as he realized the culprit. Charlie not only had to neglect any care towards him, he also had to eat all his food too?

Damn him. He slammed the fridge door and grabbing his key, burst out his trailer irritably. He would have to eat at a cafe or something on his way to the library.

By the time he arrived in town his mood was beginning to come back.

He smirked at the Hideaway as they drove past; it felt so good to have a day off, then he turned to look at the famous city. It looked quite different in the morning than at night. At night there would be lights everywhere and the streets would be filled with travelers and gamblers and con men, on their ways to the casinos and other attractions.

Then the thought struck him that he'd never actually stepped foot into a casino before. Such a strange thing when you've been living in Vegas for several years, but the more he thought about it, the less attractive it seemed. Sure it would be all lively and decorated and shiny, but the idea of giving away his money with only a small odd of getting a meager amount back was incredibly stupid in his opinion. No. He'd rather he never find the need to go in to one of those places.

It didn't take long after he ceased musing about gambling before his stop had come upon him. He spent some of his morning by the window in a cafe, nibbling on a scone and staring at the people passing by. It wasn't quite like the scones from home, but it was good enough to abate his hunger. There was a girl at the counter who kept smiling at him under her green visor, but he merely nodded and uncomfortably avoided looking at her until he left. He didn't like much attention. He'd always been shy, ever since childhood when kids would pick on him for his eyebrows. Subconsciously he began to rub one as he left and headed down the sidewalk. He actually plucked them every day, and yet even in adulthood they remained big and bushy and ugly. When he was in middle school he'd even shaved them off in desperation, but as one can imagine that'd only made it worse. Eventually he gave up trying to change them and instead spent his effort in maintaining some form of tameness.

He glanced around at the stores he past by, wishing he had more money. Already they were getting ready for the upcoming fall season, and he realized that he still hadn't gotten his coat. The leaves on the trees were already starting to change.

He settled at one of the tables in the center of the library with a pile of books and stayed there for several hours. It was just a bit busier in there than usual. Children could be heard in the corner on the other side of the room, and there were quite a few college students and older adults typing away on their laptops nearby. He paid them little mind, and was just ending the second chapter of his novel when he shuddered at the sensation of being watched. For the hundredth time this week thanks to Alfred. He glanced up at the person, ready to glare them down when for a minute he and the stranger blinked at each other. … he looked somewhat familiar…

He saw the look of surprise on the man's face and quirked up a brow as the man walked over

"Arthur-san? Is that really you?"

Eyebrows skyrocketed as a memory flashed in his mind of the boy who'd been his closest high school friend!

"Kiku? Kiku Honda? Oh my goodness, what a surprise! I hardly recognized you!"

After a quick embrace they smiled and Arthur held him an arm's length away as he studied the man with a grin. He'd grown quite a lot, he noted as he realized the asian man was nearly as tall as he was. Of course Arthur had grown a lot too, but it was much less noticeable in comparison. Kiku used to be tiny, although he still retained his baby face.

"How is life treating you Arthur-san? I was unsure if I would ever see you again. We were so worried when you disappeared."

Arthur's gaze flickered to the ground, guiltily as he realized that, yes, he never did talk to Kiku, talk to anybody, when he and Charlie left. The two had decided they would run away on a whim when Arthur's family became more unbearable. And the fact that he not only never said goodbye, but never even thought about it added weight to the burden on his chest.

"I'm sorry old chap. I… I never did say goodbye properly… I-"

But Kiku was already waving off his apology with a cheerful grin on his face. He was more happy just to be seeing Arthur after so long and without any news.

"No, no. Do not worry. You had your reasons for leaving, I understand. However," looking thoughtful,"I do not know if I could have ever done something like that."

They laughed. No, Arthur supposed he couldn't.

For the rest of the evening the two talked. They'd walked to the nearby park together as they chatted. They caught up about the last year Kiku had spent in high school; how everyone had noticed Arthur was gone even if they didn't know him very well. How that night the Kirklands found Arthur was missing, he was the first person they asked.

"They really were worried Arthur-san. Nobody knew what had happened to you."

Arthur nodded. What parent wouldn't have been worried? But that didn't change the fact that they were the reason that he ran away. They never truly accepted him, and that along with the other ways they broke his trust built up a wall that he was unwilling to get around. And while a part of him did miss his family, he was still not ready to face them even after all these years.

And he was surprised to learn as they talked about life after high school how much Kiku had changed.

Kiku Honda had been one of the top students in their year; he could have gone to any University in the country and yet he'd gone on to study marketing, and now worked for a firm in the city, instead of becoming a doctor as his parents expected of him. When they last saw each other Kiku had been so determined to make his parents proud and become a doctor.

"But I never liked medicine," he shrugged "and after you left I realized there was a bit more to life than doing what my parents wanted." He was surprisingly stubborn when he wanted to be. "In the end they gave up on trying to force me into it."

Thankfully, the topic of Arthur's profession after school was covered. Kiku certainly tried to ask him, but Arthur would avoid the issue as much as possible.

It wasn't until late evening when the sky above had turned a dark yellow color, flecked with purples and blues and oranged, that the two said goodbye.

"I'm happy that I got to see you again, Arthur-san."

"Yeah, so am I." he hadn't realized how much he missed his friend until now. "I hopefully see you around, Mr. Lead Marketer of Tony Enterprises."

With a laugh Kiku dug into his bag, and to Arthur's surprise and dismay he brought out a cell phone.

"I hope to see you as well, Arthur-san. What is your phone number? We may be able to meet up."

With a sinking feeling Arthur found out that he didn't quite know how to explain this situation.

He didn't have a cell phone. Of course Kiku couldn't have known that; Arthur had avoided talking about his circumstances, and now he felt a wave of shame at where his life had brought him. Five years ago he'd been a classmate, a man who he was once an equal to, and now here he was standing in front of a man who'd become successful in those same five years. Apparently Kiku caught on to the change in mood, as he tilted his head in confusion.

"Arthur-san...?"

But Arthur was quick to cover himself.

"Oh, my apologies! Um, I actually don't have a phone at the moment, but don't worry I'll find another way to keep in touch." He scratched at his hair and made a show of looking towards the darkening sky. "Wow, look at the time! I really should get going. It was great seeing you again, old chap."

And with that and a final handshake Arthur hurried along his way, leaving behind a very confused Kiku. It was only after he deemed himself far away to not be seen and thus offend an old good friend, Arthur burst into a run and did not stop until he got to the nearest bus stop.

And it wasn't until he'd stopped his running and was now panting heavily at the stop, standing a group of pedestrians, too busy with their own lives and errands to pay him any mind that the full force of his shame came forward.

He was a coward. A bloody coward.

After a few minutes of deciding where he wanted to go, Arthur finally concluded that since he still needed to get groceries, he would stop at the grocery store along the way home.

Absently, he rolled his way along several isles, thinking about his friend and realizing how foolish his decision had been all those years ago. He and Charlie could have waited.

They never needed to run away. Yes, their family situations were messy; what with Charlie's family divorced, and his own a group of bigots. But he regretted it. They could have held on a bit longer, then everything wouldn't have gone to hell.

He pulled up the cheapest brand of milk, still lost in thought.

He wondered how the rest of his classmates would react to seeing him like this?

Now he needed to get cheese, it should have been a bit ahead.

Would they have laughed for how low he'd stooped?

There were also eggs to get.

Or even worse; would they pity him for his desolate life?

"Hero! Stop that!"

He was roused out of his thoughts at the familiar voice just on the other aisle as it raised, reprimanding but also amused. Whose voice was that again? He couldn't put his finger on it. He'd turned the corner only to glance curiously and then keep moving, but as soon as he turned the corner he stopped dead in his tracks as he realized what a mistake he'd been about to make.

For the person standing in the middle of the aisle in front of the large bags pet food, was none other than Alfred. And tucked under his arm protectively was the thing he'd been reprimanding: a large beige cat with brown fur around it's neck and a bushy tail. It was squiggling in Alfred's grasp, excitedly trying to reach for the cat food in front of him.

Arthur ducked, pulling his cart back to get out of view.

That was not a person he wanted to see right about now. He was not in the mood nor did he have the patience to deal with the loud rambunctious man.

'Calm down, what are you getting excited for?' he told himself sternly. 'You still have shopping to finish and so what if the git is there. Just go down, grab what you need, and go. Easy as that.'

So, he took a breath and slowly he turned, rolling his way down.

So far Alfred was too busy squinting at the label of some big bag of feed and holding on to his cat.

Seriously, why did he have his pet in the grocery store? Why had anyone allowed him to bring it in?.

Arthur was now just a few feet away behind Alfred's back. As the taller man didn't notice his presence, Arthur let out a slow breath, and reached out to pick up the oh-so-important box of tea he'd been aiming for. Not getting the tea was not an option. He was British, after all. Why they had the teabags in the aisle across from pet food was anybody;s guess. Maybe since cat people were supposed to have that tea-drinking stereotype?

Arthur had just put the box of tea in his cart, and was taking a step to get away when a noise behind him took him by surprise, and he started just as Alfred looked behind him to see what his cat was mewing and reaching for so much.

"What is it Hero-?"

Arthur froze as he felt the blue gaze on his back, his heart rate quickened in anxiety as well and a knot curled around in his stomach, and he tried not to make any sudden movements; maybe Alfred hadn't even noticed him. Maybe he would simply go back to shopping for himself…

"Oh my gosh! Artie! What a surprise to see you here!"

Apparently not. Arthur groaned, wincing at that accursed nickname, and he turned to look at that grinning face. His eyes were as blue and wide with excitement as ever. The plaid shirt rolled up to the elbows over beige pants also didn't help to mask the muscles and the many shades of bronze and gold that colored the American male either.

"Hello… Alfred,"

The cat in his arms was squirming and trying to roll out of Alfred's grasp, and Arthur glared at the little traitor who'd given away his presence. "How are you doing?"

Alfred's grin widened, and he maneuvered his cat into a easier to hold position while he talked.

"I'm good! Just came in to get stuff for Hero and Iggy!"

Even at the excitement in Alfred's voice, Arthur's brows sunk and he felt a wave of pity for the poor things.

"Hero, and Iggy?" The names were said with distaste

"Heh! Well, I named this little guy myself. I had help from a coworker in naming the other."

There was another one? Where was it? Hidden in that bomber jacket Alfred had on?

He opened his mouth to ask the question, but he was cut off as Hero gave a whiny type of 'Mew' at the sound of Iggy's name.

"Aww, you miss your friend, doncha lil fella? Yeah, I had to get this little guy out of the other's hair for a bit. Hero's a younger cat so he tends to get on Iggy's nerves sometimes. But usually they get along great. It's probably why Hero's so clingy." He held the cat up against his face, earning a paw to the mouth. "Arent' yuh, little man."

The scene would have been sickeningly sweet if Arthur didn't already feel sick from seeing the other man. But he had no way of escape now that would not be overtly rude. He was a gentleman after all.

"What are you here for?" The American was already asking.

Arthur contemplated a sarcastic reply, but knowing Alfred, the sarcasm would go over his head.

"I'm just doing some breakfast shopping."

That was a harmless statement, nothing that the other man could turn into anything else.

"Oh cool! Do you need any help? Hero and I can come along with you if you want!"

Honestly, Arthur did not want. He was rather hoping to spend the rest of his afternoon peacefully, something that could never happen if he was spending it with the loud and obnoxious man. He would be too busy focusing on Alfred's lack of respect for the atmosphere, correcting his speech, trying to get him to stop using pet names on himself, and his inability to shut up, to relax.

But the man was eyeing him hopefully, and there was something in his blue eyes that reminded Arthur so much of a child that he gave in wearily.

"Hooray!"

As soon as Arthur started walking and Alfred kept step with him, the usual flood of Alfred's speech swept over him. As they walked down to the meat he was jabbering about how interesting it was how Shoppers and other places researched the ways to organize food to get people to buy more, and yet it was still hard finding exactly what you need.

He was just finishing that little nugget of conversation, when Arthur glanced up at the cat in Alfred's arms as he inspected a pear in his hand.

"I have a question, Alfred."

The American perked up in a way that reminded him of babysitting and how those children would cling to everything he said.

"Why did you bring Hero into the store? Isn't it better to leave him in the car?"

For a moment Alfred frowned, contemplating and shifting to the other foot as he thought.

"Well, I used to think it was a good idea, but then Hero doesn't really like closed spaces, or being left alone. He'll sit there and howl like a banshee; he's so clingy." He then smiled happily, stroking Hero's ear subconsciously. "Plus, I take him out so he can get some fresh air. It'd be terrible to torture him when it's supposed to be fun, you know?"

"So basically, you spoil him." Arthur said, holding out a hand in front of Hero's face, who patted it with a little paw. His face began to feel hot. The cat was a cutie. He had to admit.

Alfred beamed as Arthur turned to walk to the cash register, following him behind.

As he stood on line, Arthur felt his face heat up at the stares they were starting to incur.

Darn Alfred's softness towards his feline. People obviously thought the two men were there together, which technically wasn't true, and now people were looking at him distastefully. Jealously he glanced at Alfred, who looked very comfortable despite the glares in their direction. He was stroking Hero's fur as they waited with a small smile playing on his lips. Arthur idly wished he could seem more confident in situations like this. Hmm.

When they finally got up to the register, the lady there giggled as she saw the cat and chatted with Alfred happily about what a cutie the feline was.

By the time the girl finally got back to finishing Arthur's bags, his eyebrows had sunken into the slight frown he was most known for, and she hurried him along to help the next person.

"How rude." He muttered to himself as they walked out the exit.

"What was that?" Alfred asked curiously, holding his bag of cat food in one hand, Hero in the other.

"Nothing." There was an awkward silence as Arthur waited for the other man to get going. He didn't have all night to stand here. "Well, Goodnight Alfred. It was nice meeting your cat." He said, and Alfred tilted his head in a way that mimicked how Kiku had done earlier that day.

"I'll walk you to your car."

Oh. That's what he'd been waiting for. Arthur shifted from one foot to the other, but rolled his eyes to wave it off.

"I don't have a car."

"What? How did you get here then?"

"The bus of course. Have you never hear of public transportation?"

"Oh… well, sorry... But isn't the fare a little expensive after awhile? I could drive you home if you want."

No.

Under no circumstances should Alfred ever learn about where he lived.

How he lived…

"No. That is a kind offer, but rest assured I shall be fine."

Alfred continued to look concerned. He shuffled feet and glanced toward the dark bus stop on the corner here. Could Arthur really be safe at all, waiting at night at a bus stop by himself? They were in Vegas of all places! But try as he might he couldn't convince Arthur to let him give the man a ride home.

Smoothly Arthur said his goodbyes; to Alfred's relief he past the nefarious stop near the store and walked towards a more populated area to wait, and as he walked quickly away he realized that this was the second time in a day he'd ran away.

And even when the bus had come and he was on his way home, before he made it to the trailer park, he could not shake the feeling that he was a coward.

Such a bloody coward.


	6. Chapter 6

As much as Arthur was a bloody coward, there were some things that even his pride could not stop him from having.

One of those was tea.

The other was good sex.

And as it was, Arthur was in dire need of good sex.

He'd gone through the last week without so much as a glimpse of his supposed boyfriend, and the stress of not knowing what the man was up to, who he was with, and whether he could even consider themselves together, along with the shock of seeing Kiku and preventing him along with Alfred from realizing he was living less glamorously than should be expected for someone with his intellect, had built up into something burdensome and wretched, and now all he wanted was to be touched and comforted with a nice long round of passionate sex.

And since he seemed incapable of getting it from home he didn't care if it was with a complete stranger.

At the back of his mind he wondered when this cycle of perpetual randiness had started as he led his latest victim up the stairs, his fingers curled around his hand sweetly even as a torrent of evil intent ran about his mind.

The man, who was blushing a deep red color under his brown hair, had a pleasing face and was rather young; nothing like the usual old goons he had to deal with. He'd coxed quite a bit of information downstairs with a couple of drinks, when the man came in looking nervous, and on edge at the provocative dress of the group of ladies in the bar.

Thankfully he'd decided to wear something casual this week, as Arthur had a thing for innocent faces and he easily took pity on the poor man, inviting him over for a couple of rounds so he would have more subtle company. Not to mention the prospect of seducing someone who was not old, ugly, vulgar, or disgusting. He'd been anxious and jumpy before Arthur had pumped enough alcohol into his system. And now the man was bashfully following behind him, oblivious to the danger he was in.

Arthur gave him a final comforting smile as he yanked the man over the threshold before all but plastering himself to the other, shoving his back to the door and pulling the lad's face down to meet his own. Young people were the best, he'd thought; the uncertainty and clumsiness of, dear god, what-was-his-name's, movements as he struggled to touch Arthur, only brought out that secret monster inside him that enjoyed domination.

He tilted his head back, pushing his mouth further as he guided his hands down the man's arms. Another reason to like strapping young men; they also tended to be well muscled, he smirked.

Then he was pulling his face away, smiling at the confused expression that spilt on the other's face as he pulled him, guiding him around and to the bed where they sunk together, the fellow on his back, Arthur straddling him as he undid the top five buttons of his black button down, and pulling it over his arms and head. He flung it to the side and guided his hands down the other man's shirt, rolling his hips over the wriggling form. The outcoming gasp was almost too much.

"I don't believe I caught your name..." He said, bringing his hands to push up the other man's shirt, his fingers brushing over his thick pecs and tracing the lines of his body.

"Ah-" The man seemed unable to concentrate on speech; maybe Arthur had given him a bit too much alcohol?

"Yes, poppet?"

"Ah- Anderson,"

Ah, yes, that's what it was.

"Anderson…" He would probably forget that name later, but now the lad was squirming under him, trying to push the growing bulge in his pants up against Arthur, and Arthur wondered how he would take the fellow.

He wasn't a virgin, as he'd found out in their chat, but that didn't mean he'd ever been topped before either. His own erection was steadily beginning to reveal itself as he felt his pants becoming tighter. Anderson was squirming still, his open face red from drinks and longing, his hands feeling up Arthur's sides. He really wanted it. And Arthur would be much too happy to oblige.

He decided that, this was one of those rare opportunities to top someone; he may as well take it. He was much too innocent for Arthur not to top him. He untangled himself from over the man's legs, guiding his hands along those thighs covetously. One of Anderson's eyes fluttered open as Arthur's weight disappeared, and Arthur leaned forward to peck him on the lips before pushing away to sit on his knees.

"Roll over." He practically growled, and the fellow's face went an even darker color even as he turned himself on his chest, grabbing the sheets in tight fists.

'He's never done it like this before.' The thought drove Arthur nearly mad, and he leaned forward, pushing the bulge in his jeans against that round bubble of ass, his chest against the man's back as he sent a kiss down his neck.

Arthur ground against him, earning a groan and the lad shuddered as he was helped in getting the shirt over his head before there was a nudge against the back of his legs, guiding his hips higher to the air. Then Arthur's fingers were gliding under him, down his chest to

the belt around Anderson's waist. Then the hands were plunging down his pants and with a startled moan he was burying his red face in the pillow in front of him, shuddering as a soft, slightly chilled hand grabbed his cock, and slowly jerked him off.

Arthur was only teasing him.

The hands then moved, after a few moments of pleasuring strokes to grab the sides of his pants and underwear and yank them down, lifting his knees to take them off completely. Then the hand was back to his dick as Arthur reached over to a drawer and grabbed as tube and condom from his stash, his hand still moving up and down the other's shaft. He almost laughed as Anderson whined, groaning at the loss of contact before he poured a fair amount of lubricant on his hands with a squirt. The lad tried to glance back at him but then Arthur was back, and a gasp tore out of his mouth as the hand came back, this time slick and wet with cold lube. The hand pumping his front almost distracted him from the sensation at his rear. Almost.

The cold tips of Arthur fingers prodded him, and he clenched his teeth as one started to push inside him. Then it was two. It was agonising.

"Calm down," Arthur's voice was near his ear.

The fingers were still going, pumping into him constantly, pushing the walls of his hole and stretching him out. It was just as the sensation was turned into pleasure and he was groaning out loud that the motion stopped, there was a flutter of sound as Arthur's own pants came off, the crinkling of a wrapper being opened, he looked back to see Arthur frowning in concentration, his big brows scrunched together cutely, another squirt and then he was back. He hovered over his back, teasing the fellow by guiding his dick along between his thighs, before he brought it back to prod at the small hole at his rear. Arthur's eyes roamed over the back of the shivering body, and he revered in fantasies of what they could do in the next two hours.

'Ah, the young ones are the best.' He thought as he prepared to enter.

With a sigh Arthur rolled over, the sheets wrapping around his legs as he brought a pillow over to the middle of the bed, he rested his chin in his arms while he waited for the lad to finish his shower. With a glance at the clock on the stand he realized it was already two in the morning. He smirked. Where had the time gone?

His and the other man's clothes were still flung around the room, but Arthur really didn't feel like getting up. He felt so refreshed and all his worries were safely in the back of his mind.

He needed to get laid like this more often.

There was a screech as the faucet turned off, and he glanced up at the still blushing lad as he emerged from the bathroom, still naked and damp. He'd paused when he saw Arthur spread out on the bed, and his face went and even darker shade of red before he gave a startled mumble, Arthur couldn't make out what he said, and started to retrieve his clothing from around the room, doing his best to cover himself up.

It reminded Arthur of a child who just got caught doing something naughty, and he tried to keep a straight face as until the man left with a mumbled 'goodbye' and hurried out the door.

He shrugged. Nice sex, but the man could have more presence. He'd probably forget him later.

Now he could sleep.

"I see you're in a better mood, eh Anglais?"

Arthur paused to glare at Francis as the frenchman, out of nowhere, leaned into a stool next to him spreading his elbows over the table and taking up most of the room on the bar. Where'd he come from?

"Go away, frog." Arthur said taking a shot before pushing his glass forward.

It was later, or technically earlier, in the morning and Arthur had found himself at the bar of the Wild Wings restaurant a block away from the Pele's. It was a different atmosphere than at work; it was louder and crowded and the other guests were rowdily yelling towards the tele at a football game. He only liked the place since it meant being away from home or work when he couldn't be anywhere else.

He took another shot and turned to face the rest of the restaurant where groups were eating and chatting delightedly.

"It makes you a bit jealous, non?"

"Hmm?"

Hesitantly he glanced at the other's face. Francis was also eyeing the people around them with a sort of smile that was uncharacteristically sad for the usually cheerful Frenchman.

"You know, that they can lives their lives so carefreely."

'Heeeh, so even you have struggled!' Arthur thought victoriously, but as he looked back at the other people there was an undeniable dampness in mood.

"Herm. Only you can manage to ruin things when I'm finally feeling good." he glared accusingly at Francis who only laughed, waving a hand flippantly.

"Ahon, we both know it's not hard to 'kill your buzz', as they say. Face it if it weren't for moi you would be looking out at that crowd all by yourself, feeling lonely and misréable, since you have no friends."

"You take that back! I do to have friends!"

"Oh?" With a languid movement Francis rested his chin against his arm and crossed a leg to face Arthur, " I am dying to hear about them!"

Arthur wilted a little in his seat as he racked his brain for a name that was not from high school or the bar. After all he never saw his high school mates; Kiku had been the exception and he guilty thought that claiming him as a friend after years of dropping off the earth might be disrespectful. He glared back definitely, deciding to cover up the embarrassment.

"Sod off! What's it to you what friends I do or don't have?"

With a shrug Francis turned back again.

"I suppose nothing.

There was silence except for the group of men as they all growled in unison at the game. Arthur winced.

"What in the hell do they see in those silly games of theirs?"

"Isn't it terrible? At least be that emotional over football, not that American garbage."

For a moment the their glances met in surprise, and Francis smiled.

"Finally something we agree on, no?"

Arthur looked away quickly. Oh jeeze, now he was agreeing the the frog!

"Yeah, but don't go telling everybody. If anybody asks me I will most certainly deny it!"

"Oui, I would never want to be accused of having the same tacky interests as you."

"You take that back, frog!"

As the girl working the bar looked up at the two bickering men, she smiled, "You must be such good friends." she said passing the two their drinks in the midst of their argument and earning two stunned and outraged glares.

"We most certainly do not!"

"How could you, moi belle, think I would be friends with a guy like him?!"

"Just look at his stupid beard!"

"Just take a look at his eyebrows!"

The girl just giggled one more time and moved over to serve more people down the bar, leaving the two men to glare at each other grumpily.

"We are not friends."

"Oui! Who'd want to be friends with you. Aside from Alfred." Francis muttered. "Oh!" He dropped the frown that'd been playing on his face as he grinned, striking that damned chin resting on hand pose as he smirked at the Brit knowingly.

"Speaking of mon ami américain, I heard about your little date~."

Arthur choked on the shot he'd been taking and quickly slapped the Frenchman's hands away as he tried to pat his back from coughing.

"What in the bloody hell are you going on about?"

"I was simply referring to your little meet up at the store the other day." France gave him a grin that Arthur would gladly punch off his face if he didn't want to get kicked out the bar.

"You, are barking."

"Oh? Am I? How?"

"Because, it's not like that, you git!"

"Hmm, if you're sure."

Honestly. From where in the world did he get such an idea? Arthur and Alfred on a date? Weren't the two a couple already?

Oh!

Arthur glanced at the frenchman who was looking towards the men watching American football on the big screens with thinly veiled disgust. Maybe Francis was just making sure he wasn't trying to put any moves on the American. Well, he probably had nothing to worry about.

"I'm sure Alfred doesn't see me as anything more than a friend. If you could even call it that."

Francis looked surprised, his eyes wide as if this was the first time ever seeing the Brit before him. He moved his arm, putting a first against his temple as he stared in disbelief.

"I never thought I'd see the day,"

Arthur thought he was about to thank him for his confidence before the man's next words dashed that thought.

"When I'd meet a man even denser than Alfred Jones."

A burning hatred shot in Arthur's chest.

"What?! Take that back you wanker! At least my nose isn't the biggest thing on my head!"

"My nose is fabulous!"

The girl at the bar glanced over at the bickering twosome once more and smile.

They really got along so well!

When Arthur got home, around 6 in the morning, he was faintly surprised as he opened his door and the most elusive species on the planet: Charlie, the boyfriend who he wasn't even sure if he was a boyfriend.

The two stared at each other for a moment, Arthur's hand still clutching the doorknob, before the Brit very calmly closed the door, took a breath, and promptly walked past the dark haired man to go and change.

Arthur would be damned if he made the first move.

"H-hey babe!" Charlie said, his voice nervous outside the closed door of the bedroom. "I-It's good seeing you!"

Arthur paused in pulling over his shirt to roll his eyes as his boyfriend, and he used the word very loosely, continued.

"You know, I've really missed you this week… and I uh, I mean, I haven't been trying to ignore you, it's just I've been sorta busy you know?"

Busy? Arthur grabbed the door open, giving Charlie the angriest glaring of his life.

"Busy you say? Doing what? Because last time I checked I'm the only one with a job around here."

Charlie winced as Arthur strode past him rolling up his sleeves and stopping at their small kitchen to start the warm water for the pile of dishes he'd been neglecting.

There was silence between them as Arthur scrubbed away, his buzzed mood starting to feel like a distant memory. Charlie was behind him, leaning against the wall, nervously rubbing the back of his neck as he tried to avoid looking at Arthur's back.

Over the clinking of glasses being stacked in the basket to air dry, Arthur realized that he was slouching, that he was tired and disheartened and the afterglow from the glorious sex and the buzz of alcohol were already wearing off, and now he just felt miserable. It wasn't fair.

He silently rubbed at his eye that was wettening up annoyingly. It just wasn't fair.

He was miserable. He should just leave!

But just as the tears started to flow and almost as if his mind had been read, he felt a pair of hand surround his own and startled he met the brown eyed gaze of the man who caused him so much trouble! He held his hand pleadingly, like a child.

"I'm sorry, okay?"

"You should be." His voice sounded hoarse much to his annoyance.

"I am!"

"Sure you are."

"I'm going to change."

"..."

"I'm going to get help."

Then Arthur's arm was being squeezed in a sort of hug to only his limb.

"So please don't leave me?"

He sighed.

"Don't give me a reason to, and I won't."

He turned back to start washing again, and even as Charlie kept on a tirade of promises on how he was going to do better and be a different person, Arthur didn't even have the energy to hope anymore.


	7. Chapter 7

"Alfred. "  
"Yes, Artie?"  
Arthur's brow twitched forward at the nickname as he sent a sideways glare to his neighbor in the bar, who had been babbling loudly with Emma, a nice Belgian girl with a sweet smile, over his shoulder. He was leaning back against the counter, his long legs curled precariously on the foothold of his stool, and his elbows offending Arthur as they spread over it's surface, taking way too much room for Arthur's liking; for the third time he pointedly scooted his glass away from the intrusion.  
"Why are you here?"

It was a slow day at Pele's Hideaway. Midmorning was always the emptiest point of the day; the sun outside was shining it's usual glow in the middle of a crystal sky, and although there was an abundance of people hurrying along the busy streets of Vegas, they were more focused on finding something to eat for their lunchbreak, more than entertainment.  
As it was the girls mostly remained in the front of the store, chatting away amongst themselves and a couple of men who'd wandered in not too long ago. On one side of the room Elizebeta was taking orders for lunch for the other girls, while Xiao Mei, the new Taiwanese showgirl, sat on the edge of the stage for a break.  
But all of this Arthur was unable to focus much of his attention on.  
Sitting in his lacy underthings in the middle of a bar next to the one man in the world who could both endear and annoy Arthur so much with his dorky, quirky, overly-friendly, behavior, simultaneously making him angry at himself for finding it all endearing when he really just wanted to be left to hate the world in peace, but could not because Alfred seemed on a mission to irritate him into a coma by giving him too large smiles, and big manly hugs, and none of the personal space that Arthur tended to treasure, when he leaned forward into said personal bubble to describe some idiotic idea with all the enthusiasm of an overgrown child, or to ask Arthur of his opinion on some inane subject that Arthur had neither the patience or the understanding of to articulate his thoughts, or other ways to get under Arthur's skin with all his goofy, repellent, charming, Alfred-ness, was far too distracting.  
And what made it worse was how oblivious Alfred seemed to Arthur's obvious and largely vocal discomfort.  
Even now a grin was splitting on that golden face, his slim eyebrows raising over happy too-blue eyes as his leaned forward on his stool towards the Brit, making Arthur lean back ever so slightly to gain some amount of room and avoid the solid gaze of the young man. Looking away from Alfred's face, Arthur noted the fact Alfred's plaid shirt was a merry array of white, blue, and yellow; the same colors that made up the American.

It also twisted his heart the way Alfred seemed to express complete and undivided attention to everything he said; even the most unobtrusive and petty statements and, more popularly, insults. While he did indeed enjoy being listened to whenever he gave out such gems of wit and sarcasm by others, the way in which Alfred seemed to absorb everything he said only made him self conscious, although that may have had more to do with the accusations of Arthur being a 'grump' coming from the taller blonde of late. It was hard keeping keeping his sarcastic and unyielding aura up while also proving that he was indeed, not a grumpy old man with a stick up his ass.  
Tentatively he raised his eyes.  
"Ha! I'm always around here, Arthur!"  
Arthur considered hitting that face.

"What I mean is, why are you here now. I would assume that you do indeed have a job, correct? Or some sort of vocation, like volunteer work, or university, or anything else deemed an acceptable way of furthering your career to prevent the fate of a freeloader, who leech off our society by wasting our hard earned tax-payer money, which I actually do pay a share of every year mind you, despite the fact that they are completely capable of labor and are just too damned lazy to go day in and day out to work for what they want. You do look like a self-sufficient and healthy young man. Do you have some sort of disability that keeps you from-?"  
"Okay! Okay! Chill out!" Alfred said, waving his hands to stop Arthur mid-rant.

With all his might Alfred tried not to smile the Brit down. He just found it amusing the way Arthur could turn one statement of his into an entire tirade about what was wrong with Alfred and the rest of the world. And he almost laughed at loud as the Englishman raised a brow, silently warning that this was what to be expected, if he ever deemed it wise to get cheeky again, should Arthur ever feel the need to ask something of him. There were very few times when Arthur did betray his interest in Alfred's actions. He should treat each one of them preciously.

Nervously, should Arthur decide he didn't care for an answer at the last moment, Alfred scratched at his neck, glancing around the still-unbusy room. Nobody seemed to be listening in at any rate, so he shrugged.  
"Well, I guess you can say I'm not here just to hang out. As much as I enjoy your company of course!" He added at the furrowing of that bushy brow. He inwardly gloated as the brow deepened and Arthur's face turned a shade darker. How adorable.  
"But, the reason that I'm here-, I'm only telling you so you can look out for it too, by the way. I know you two always fight but I'd really appreciate it if you-"  
Now it was Arthur's turn to pause the boy mid-sentence.  
"-Now, hold on a moment, what exactly are you talking about? I only asked you why you decide to grace us with your perpetually annoying presence every week?!"  
"And I'm trying to tell you." Alfred said, holding his hands in a gesture of peace once more. "As I was about to say, the reason that I am always here all the time is I am acting as a body guard for Francis."  
What?  
"What?" Arthur's voice repeated as the question flashed across his mind. But what the hell did the frenchman need a bodyguard for?  
Alfred gave a sigh in a tone reminiscent of one you'd give to a child who kept failing to get a point you kept going over, that made Arthur's eyebrow twitch.  
"You know how Francis and I have been friends for years right?"

Arthur nodded.  
"And I'm sure you already know since you guys get along so well, that Francis is all about free love and whatever, and he's not exactly the most morally correct of men. He met some girl at a bar and they sorta hit it off;- "  
Ignoring the common misconception that he and Francis shared anything but a mutual hatred for each other, Arthur could already see where this conversation was going. Free love was codename for 'sleeps with anything' and he certainly knew that Francis was about as hard to fend off as a mosquito. Even worse, he made it extremely hard to want to fend him off.  
"So, who was dating the lass?"  
Alfred shrugged.  
"Some college football star or something, anyway; he didn't exactly like the idea of having his girlfriend stolen, so for the last few months we've they've been threatening to jump him. I mean, they were posting letters on his door and everything! So, yeah. I basically try to stick around, you know, make sure nobody tries anything funny."  
"Hmm. That explains why he needs a bodyguard, but not quite why he needs you as a bodyguard. Plus, if the man is in hiding, why the devil would he pick a...a place like this, to work at?"  
Alfred's easy grin flitted across his face, and once more Arthur felt like knocking those pearly white teeth in.  
"Oh ye of little faith! I may not look it, but I've been doing sports for years, plus I'm always at the gym. Gotta keep in top form for you and the ladies." He laughed as Arthur punched him in the arm. "But don't worry; I can definitely handle it!"  
At the implication that Alfred's safety had been anywhere near the forefront of his mind, ignoring the fact that, that had been one of the first thoughts that flitted through at the mention of a group of burly college students skulking around, wishing ill harm, with Alfred being the only thing standing between him and that cowardly frenchman, Arthur turned his head as far a degree as he could to avoid that stupid smile.

"It's n-not like I was worried or anything. I was just thinking if it had to be you- and not because I want you around or anything!-Quite the opposite!"  
At that Alfred leaned back in his stool, ignoring Arthur's protests to laugh and scan the room missing Arthur's nervous glance.  
"Alfred I'm just wondering,"  
Even to himself Arthur thought he sounded weak, and he cleared his throat, but he really couldn't the wave of embarrassment. It wasn't as if he cared if the American was around or not...  
"If Francis were not here,-lets say he decides this isn't as fun a past time anymore… does that mean you'd leave too?" adding "Not that I care either way!" with a blush as the taller man looked back.  
There was a pause in which Arthur, staring at the next bar stool as if it was the most interesting thing in the world, fidgeted anxiously at his bold question. Of course Alfred wouldn't take time out his schedule, if he had one, to come visit a place like this, unless he had a big reason to. But after a moment of silence he forced himself to look back, startling himself when he met blue eyes and realized that Alfred had been staring at him, smile etched on his face as he'd waited for Arthur to actually look him in the eye. And after a moment of staring at each other, the American laughed, and shocking Arthur out of his thoughts, patted one of his bare knees in a gesture that was supposed to be comforting, but only embarrassed the Brit all the same.  
"Don't worry Arthur, I would always come and visit you; I'd hate to leave you all sad and lonely." The he ducked at the resulting aim to his head.  
"I'm neither sad nor lonely, you git!"  
"Hahahahaha!"

"You know, if I didn't know any better, I'd think you two are doing this just for attention."  
"Belt up, you twat!"  
Alfred paused in his bandaging to laugh as he dodged a blow to the head, fingers moving deftly around the white gauge he was wrapping around the Brit's scraped knee.

Sitting across from Arthur in the back room of the Hideaway Alfred also sent a smirk at Francis, who looked worse for wear, sprawled out on the other side of the large black couch as far away from the green eyed man as possible. His leg was raised up on a pillow, while his torso was lifted up the back of the couch, holding a handkerchief to his bleeding nose. He had scrapes on his face, his long hair was tossled, and he was rubbing a bandage that covered very large bruise in the middle of his stomach as he and Arthur sent daggers between each other.  
Arthur only looked marginally better; his already messy hair stood up in random places, there was a patch on his cheek covering a purplish splotch, and he was massaging his scrapped knuckles menacingly.  
"So," Alfred said, clapping his hands against his knees as he stood off the coffee table and looked between the two men, "Who started it?"

"Why don't you ask the frog?" Arthur said, glaring at the Frenchman.  
"Non! It was not I who started throwing punches!"  
"You said my cooking was terrible!"  
"And I was telling the truth! Your cooking is equivalent to a weapon!"  
"It is not! I'll have you know my food is tasty!"  
"Lies! Lies! All of them!"  
And then the two were arguing again, throwing insults back and forth across the couch as Alfred shook his head and turned to Madame in the doorway, cigarette in hand. "Geeze. They're almost like children."  
"Ohhohoho! That's to be expected with close friends." She said waving her hand dramatically.  
"WE ARE NOT FRIENDS!" The two blondes yelled, pausing with Arthur pulling Francis beard, and Francis pulling Arthur's hair. Easily Alfred worked his hands through their fists to break them apart and apologized to Madam as the two grown men sat, glaring away from each other with their arms crossed.  
"I think these two are done for the night; sorry again Madam."  
"Not at all, not at all. Lucky there was a big strong man there to break them up." Batting her heavily lashed eyes at Alfred as she left.  
"Come on you two, I'll bring you home." Alfred said, helping to hold up his French companion whose swollen leg was currently preventing him from walking, and then grabbing Arthur's hand to pull him up.  
"Oh Thank you, mon cher, I know I can always rely on you in my times of need!"  
"Yeah, yeah Francis, you're still not off the hook."  
The two paused at the door as Alfred realized the Brit wasn't following.  
"Aren't you coming?"  
Arthur who'd been standing back, waiting for the two to leave started, avoiding the American's gaze, and waving him off nonchalantly.  
"Oh no, It's fine. I'll be heading home soon enough."  
"Are you sure Arthur? I can give you a ride, it'd be no trouble at all!"  
Arthur almost smirked at the blatant lie; everyone knew by now that Francis and Alfred lived in the same building, and he highly doubted he would bring and injured Francis along when the man had no patience for the American's driving on any given day. It was nice for him to care at least.  
"No, Alfred. I am perfectly capable of getting home by myself. Go take care of the frog. He needs it more than I do" he said, smirking as Francis tried to protest, needing to be grabbed out by the taller blonde.  
"Just be careful okay?" the man called over his shoulder as he left, and Arthur almost sighed as he left before he caught himself.  
He had another reason to decline the offer, he thought, smiling anxiously as Charlie's car pulled up to the curb.  
"How you doing babe?" The brunette greeted cheerfully.  
Ever since their last conversation, Charlie was slowly winning his way back. Every night Charlie would pick him up from work, would have dinner ready for Arthur, since admittedly all of Arthur's experiments in the kitchen tended to turn into lumps of burn charcoal, and then they went to sleep together. He didn't see him drink if he still did it, and the attention was starting to thaw him. Just a little.

It was on the next Thursday that instead of the boisterous American he'd learn to expect, disturbing the peace of the bar and distracting Arthur from his work with his cheeriness, another man with the same face appeared, quietly tucking himself on the opposite side of the room, and scanning the room anxiously as though something were going to attack him.  
For a while he put it off as coincidence the resemblance they had; after all the man's hair was was much paler,and his eyes were violet,not blue, and he shrugged it off, returning to focus on running the bar. .  
It wasn't until Francis appeared at the door in a flourish, without Alfred he noted, greeting the violet eyed man with a hug and bringing him over to the bar.  
"-You are impossible; don't sit in the corner like a wallflower, your brother and I are always telling you, you are too shy, mon ami."  
Arthur'd paused at the bar as Francis forced the taller man into a stool, and leaned an arm over the counter merrily.  
"Mon cher, Arthur! How lovely it is to see those large eyebrows of your's!"  
"I was wondering when you'd show up, frog!"  
"Ahon honhon!" The Frenchman laughed, patting the confused man beside them happily. "Matthew! This is my good not-friend Arthur! Whatever you do, do not accept any of his cooking. It will kill you. And Arthur," he said facing the Brit he'd just insulted, "this little kitten is my friend Matthew! He's Alfred's twin brother, by the way, although I've sure you noticed the similarities, mmh?"  
"Oh, belt up Francis!" Arthur glared, holding his fist up threateningly although in a swift movement he was smiling at Matthew, turning the first into a handshake merrily.  
"Good to meet you old chap. You can ignore anything Francis says about my cooking."  
"H-hello, Arthur. Alfred has told me a lot about you."  
If anything Arthur had to be surprised that this man could possibly be related to that obnoxious git he claimed for a brother. He and Matthew were exact opposites.  
"So, you and Alfred are twins?"  
'Why have I not heard anything about it?' Arthur pondered as the younger man stuttered.  
After Francis left to go entertain some guests Arthur learned that although Alfred and Matthew were twins they'd grown up separately after the divorce of their parents. Their father raised up Alfred in the states, while Matthew's mother moved back up to Ontario where she ended up marrying. Despite the separation however, the two were still able to see much of each other growing up, especially when Matthew came down to visit every summer.  
Apparently he'd moved back to the states a few years ago when he went to University along with his brother and ended up staying around. He also explained that he was filling in looking after Francis, being also a close friend to the Frenchman, since Alfred was busy with work.  
By the time Francis was back, insulting Arthur to make Matthew more comfortable, the Brit thought he rather liked the young man, although he didn't carry much presence.


	8. Chapter 8

"STUPID,STUPID,STUPID,STUPID,STUPID,STUPID,STUPID, "

Arthur slammed through the front door as he stomped inside his mobile home, his face contorted in that special expression of anger that only he could wear through his domineering eyebrows, and stomped over to the kitchen table where his boyfriend sat, fork of chow mein inches from his mouth, before sinking into his chair and dropping his forehead in it's surface with a groan.

"Tough day?"

Slowly Arthur raised his forehead to glare at the brunette.

"No. it was just peachy."

Charlie took a moment to slurp up a noodle, before glancing back at the Brit.

"Wanna talk about it?"

Another groan.

"I mean you don't have to if you don't want."

"..."

"Was it one of your clients?"

Arthur shuddered at the tone, but shook his head, rolling it side to side on the table.

"Well, whenever you wanna talk."

The Brit sighed. "My colleagues are idiots."

"Oh, really? I thought you got along with the girls."

"Yeah…" Arthur avoided Charlie's gaze as the brunette finished eating, getting up to wash his dishes ( a miracle if he ever saw one). He felt just a bit deflated.

The truth was, his coworkers weren't really the problem, but Arthur could hardly tell Charlie about his new acquaintances at the Hideaway. There was something the man already disliked about his work; adding the fact that Arthur now had other people he was going out with would only make things worse between them, and just when they were starting to turn around. No, he thought, he would keep it to himself.

The real culprits for Arthur's mood were himself, but he had no problem blaming it on more of Francis' friends. (Apparently the guy had billions of them). Arthur had earned a nice amount of tip from the bar, and was about to head home, finding himself in a rather good mood between talking with Matthew and restraining himself from beating up Francis again. He was just finished packing up when the party that was Francis' posee, showed up to wait for their companion. One was a rather tall albino man, smirking evilly as he waved at Matthew before taking out a cigarette and standing out the door, cursing at the people passing by. The other man was a Spaniard with a long curl of hair bobbing at the top of his head, that Arthur recognised as a manager at the Pizzeria the Vargas brothers worked at.

"Gilbert! Antonio! How good to see you, mes amis!" France greeted, a towel draped over his shoulders under his wet hair.

"Francis, dry your hair properly before you get a cold," Matthew was saying, grabbing up his backpack.

As Arthur straightened the tie over his sweater vest, he did note that the nights were getting much chillier, and vaguely wondered about that coat he was putting off buying, as he waited for the group of men to get out his way so he could leave, when he was noticed by the albino. Gilbert was it?

"And who do we have here?" he said, grinning. His canines looked rather much sharper than a normal persons, giving him the effect of a deviant.

"Oh, that's just Arthur. I'm sure Alfred spoke of him, no?"

"Oh yeah! That makes sense. The eyebrows!"

Familiarly the vein in his temple began to pulse.

"He was right! They're huge!" Antonio was saying.

"Undoubtedly."

"Oui, monstrous."

"Gigantic."

"Colossal."

"Titanic-"

"Can we bloody well stop talking about my eyebrows!?"

Amusement appeared on their faces at the outburst and Gilbert leaned over to whisper in his friend's ear. To the side Matthew tried to comfort him. ("They don't like that bad on you")

"You know, they almost remind me of that dog you had a while back Francis."

They doubled over in laughter while Arthur tried to control his blush, not to mention his rising temper.

"Are we quite done here? Some people would like to go home!"

"Oui, oui! We were just leaving Sir Arthur. But that reminds me! We have found this great little pub no too far from here. You should join us!"

The Brit almost winced. As tempting as the offer was, there was Charlie to worry about, plus it was late. He should just go home.

"I think I'll pass."

"Aww, don't be a party pooper!"

"Si! You should come along!"  
"Oui, surely your cross stitches can wait another night." The Frenchman teased

Arthur quickly thought of violence.

"Cross stitching is an artform you frog!" He cried.  
"Ahon! But that does not answer the question; won't you please come and join us, mon ami?"

"I already answered. I'm going home."

He turned to start walking to the bus stop when Francis' next words put a completely unreasonable shiver down his back.

"Did we mention Alfred would be there?"

He turned to glare quickly at the Frenchman, then he realized he'd walked into a trap as he saw the smirk on Francis' face and just as quickly looked away, trying to ignore how his face was heating up.

"Oooh~ Did that get your attention?"

"Of course it didn't, fool! I was just wondering why you would think it mattered!"

'Yeah, that was it.'he tried to convince himself. He was just trying to figure out why the tall blonde American was being brought up at all. No more, no less.

But even so Francis was sending him a knowing smirk, and Matthew looked something between amused and uncomfortable. Luckily Antonio and Gilbert had their attention on some voluptuous woman passing by.

"I only figured you would have missed our dear Alfred; you are so used to him coming in to keep you company non?"

Even that sounded extremely embarrassing to Arthur and he fought another rush of heat to glare Francis down. Just because it was true did not mean he had to admit it!

"And also sure he missed you as well~"

"Hush up frog! I already said that I'm busy."

Then the thought came to mind of that golden face, smiling sadly. It pulled at his heart.

"Although I suppose if you're going to make a big deal about it, I can stay around for a little while. But only since it was insisted; It can't be helped after all."  
"Ahon. It always surprises me just how dishonest you are mon ami! Come, we must go!"

Francis grabbed the Brit by the hand before Arthur could deny being anything but truthful, practically dragging him along as the group walked; Gilbert, Antonio, and Francis making noise and flirting with ladies on the street, Arthur trying to hide his face in embarrassment but unable to get his arm out of the Frenchman's grasp, and Matthew trailing behind everyone with quiet amusement.

When they finally got to the pub, Gilbert made a ruckus, laughing at the waiter about his 'penguin suit' as they were led through the restaurant. Alfred was already there, sitting at a couple of tables pushed together in a corner, across from another burly blond man with a stern look on his face. The American waved cheerfully at the trio, before his gaze caught on Arthur being pulled along by his French friend.

"Arthur! Hey! What are you doing here?"

Arthur felt his face flush along with a rush of annoyance at the greeting. Not quite the reaction he was expecting, although he also felt shameful for the reaction that maybe he had wanted.

"I-It's not like I wanted to come along. I've been forced!" He exclaimed, avoiding that wide blue gaze. But if anything Alfred's grin widened.

"Well, I'm glad you came along!"

Suddenly Arthur found himself under the American's arm being guided to the seat right beside him. He dearly hoped that the speed of his heartbeat was from walking as he was practically pressed against the other man.

While the others settled down, taking off their jackets and joking a bit too loudly for the space of the restaurant, the arm continued to lean across his shoulders, making Arthur rather self conscious from the looks of ladies in the pub who'd been eyeing Alfred with varying amounts of interest. Uncomfortably he reasoned that this should be expected in such a public place; Alfred could be considered very handsome he supposed. And as subtly as possible he observed the America out the corner of his eye under his lashes.

He hadn't quite gotten around to admiring how well sculpted the taller blonde was, but with the way their sides were squished together, Arthur was getting a good feel of the muscles under Alfred's shirt, and maybe it was just the light of the pub but as he examined that face that was grinning merrily across the table, laughing along to his friends, he really started to appreciate the way Alfred's forehead curved under that flash of yellow hair, those prominent cheekbones, his straight nose and strong jaw. And then he caught himself again, and ignoring that stupid fuzziness in his chest, he looked as determinedly far away from the American as he could. This was terrible. What was he doing? Charlie was finally starting to come back to him, and now he was here in the middle of a pub oogling some other man.

He shifted in his seat to try and distance himself from the other man, but that only caught Alfred's focus.

"You okay dude?"

Arthur could feel his neck and cheeks warming again.

"I-I'm quite alright." Blast him and his concerned smile! It was getting very hard for him to ignore the taller man when he acted so charming.

"If you say so! I missed hanging out with you today; I had a lot of work." Alfred pulled a face that was endearingly childish.

"O-Oh? I had heard something to that effect."

"Yeah. It gets pretty hectic this time of year. But things usually settle down mid October."

Arthur quirked a brow.

"I never gathered what you actually do."

"What?! I never told you?"

As Arthur shook his head he noticed Francis across from him, giving him an annoying smirk, and he tried to turn his head so he would be looking less at the handsome American's face.

"That's terrible! And we've known each other for so long!"

"Ha! I would hardly call 2 months very long Alfred." Had it really been 2 months? Arthur counted mentally. Yes; it had! It was already nearing the end of September, and it had been the beginning of August when Francis and the American showed up at Pele's hideaway. My how time flew.

"Fine fine, but yeah; I'm an accountant!"

"You're an... accountant?"

Slowly Arthur turned back to stare at Alfred. Did he hear that right? Alfred as an accountant? The concept of the loud boisterous American, sitting at a desk, crunching numbers simply could not form itself in Arthur's mind.

But at the look of complete confusion Alfred laughed.

"You don't have to be so surprised!"

"I-didn't mean anything by it.. it just came as a surprise. After all, when I think of an accountant -I don't know…"

"You think of some old geezer typing in a calculator right?"

"Well, yes."

He laughed again, and Arthur's worries of insulting the man were wiped away.

"Don't worry, I get what yuh mean. But it's actually not that bad you know? Math was always my best subject, and all I do is make sure we report the right stuff to the government. Save money for the company and all that."

"I see..." Arthur muttered, still unable to understand how the American could enjoy something so unexpected of his character."

"Let me guess, you're a literature nutt."

"I wouldn't say I'm a 'nutt' as you put it, but there is nothing in this world like good literature. The many ways one can express an idea with written word. It is amazing!"

That laugh again.

"I guess we'll have to agree to disagree. I never liked literature much. Sure if a story is really good I can deal, but what's with those old books and their funny writing? I always got lost whenever my professors made us read Shakespeare."

As Alfred talked he started to make gestures in the air, and removed his arm from Arthur's shoulders. The Brit found he missed the warmth.

"Hmph. This doesn't surprise me coming from you."

"Aww, don't be mean!"

The rest of the time at the pub included more conversations about work, as apparently Alfred, Gilbert, Matthew and until recently Francis worked in different departments in the same publishing firm. When asked why he'd decided to take a break for while, Francis' reply was something characteristically foolish, ("Ah~ I decided it was time to take a vacation of love~")

after which nobody decided to comment anymore about work. Francis and Antonio then began talking, about what suspiciously sounded like the seduction of a certain angry Italian he worked with.

It wasn't until later after they had all ordered drinks that Arthur finally noticed the empty seat next to him, and while at first that hadn't seemed very important it was when another member joined their group that Arthur almost kicked himself not for noticing.

"Good evening, everyone. I am sorry I'm late."

Arthur turned, his eyes nearly popping out of their sockets at the familiar voice, and he nearly jumped at the face of none other than Kiku!

"Kiku! Dear God, I never expected to see you here."

"Hello Arthur-san. I didn't know you would be here either."

Kiku bowed a greeting before he was ushered into his seat next to the surprised Brit. Alfred even looked confused as he waved to the Japanese man.

"You guys know each other?"

"Hello, Alfred-san. Yes, we both went to High School together."

"Really?! I never knew that!"  
"And how do you two know each other?" Arthur's asked looking at the two on each side.

"We work together; Kiku is in the marketing department though."

Arthur nodded. That made sense, since it seemed everybody else had connections to the company. "I never would have realized."

"But that's really cool that you knew each other already, Arthur. Kiku is like one of my best friends!"

Both Kiku and Arthur had to smile at that; it was just like Alfred to make anybody he remotely associated with, his friend. It wasn't long until everyone had decided what to eat and the excitement of Kiku's appearance died down.

The rest of diner went by smoothly. Or as smoothly as it could go with a group of rowdy men. There was plenty of alcohol and cat calling, and Gilbert would yell something offensive every once in a while. If Arthur thought that Alfred was obnoxious, the German (Prussian he claimed) took the cake. The night was ended when Francis thought it a good idea to feel up their waitress. She didn't seem to mind it too much, but none the less they thought it was better to go.

The most annoying moment for Arthur was when he tried to pay for his food, but was ultimately stopped by Alfred.

"What are you doing you idiot?!" he stuttered tipsily.

"Nuh uh uh uh~. The Hero's gonna take care of you!" Alfred exclaimed cheerfully, grabbing Arthurs cash to give the waiter his card. All attempts to snatch it back were thwarted as Alfred grabbed him by the arms, holding him away from the retreating waiter.

"I didn't ask you to do that!"

"Of course you didn't but I wanted to so I did anyway." Alfred flashed the shorter man his signature grin and a thumbs up as his card was returned. The group slowly trailed out of the restaurant and into the cool night air, leaving Arthur slightly jealous of the jackets of his companions.

"I don't need you to take care of me." he hissed. While Gilbert and Antonio were off again harassing Ludwig, to his chagrin Francis, Matthew, and even Kiku were watching the argument with apparent interest.

"Well it's too late for that Artie! As long as we hang out together, I refuse to let you pay for it."

"I guess I won't be able to 'hang out' then."

"What? But Artie!"

"No."

While in the back of his mind Arthur was aware that he was being unreasonable, there was something about the buzzing in his ears that fought to say dammit it all! If he didn't want to be treated by the git, then he shouldn't be forced to. He was too buzzed to remember the exact reason he didn't want to it; after all who wouldn't like to be treated to free food by an attractive and hunky man? But under the alcohol, there were feelings of anxiousness. What if his accepting it was taken out of context? Being treated for meal was going a bit too close to territory that he knew was off limits, wasn't it? Just that thought started to sober him up, and he angrily looked up at the American.

The two stubborn blonds stared each other down in silence, Alfred puffing his cheeks petulantly until he gave up. "Fine" he grumbled, turning to glare towards the passing cars and passbyers, rather than looking at the shorter man, unnerved at how quickly the mood had changed. He could never just be nice to a person, could he? All he did was cover a meal for a friend. The least Arthur could do is take it gracefully instead of the blatant rejection. Carefully Alfred glanced towards Francis and Matthew who were trying but failing to look like they hadn't heard the exchange, and he released a breath into the cool night air, watching it dissipate in front of him glumly.

"Well, I guess we'd better head home then. Do you wanna ride?" He ventured although he knew the answer.

Arthur's stony expression melting into concern at the new tone in Alfred's voice, and anxiously he glanced at that bespeckled face. If he didn't know any better his responding 'no' only served to disappoint the taller man more.

"A- thats alright."

Awkwardly his gaze dropped the sidewalk and he said his goodbyes, ignoring a silly comment from GIlbert and the look he was earning from Kiku, weather concern or disappointment it was hard to tell. With a final goodbye to Alfred and Matthew, he stalked off down the street.

On the way back home, Arthur found himself wishing he'd never accepted that offer to go out. How miserable. He'd single-handedly managed to ruin an outing with friends right at the end, and without even trying. But he supposed, that if it hadn't been tonight, it would have been another that Alfred finally started to get tired of his less than friendly and downright confrontational personality.

That had been partly why Arthur fought against being too friendly to the American. There were very few people in the world who could deal with him being the way he was. He was boring and critical on his good days, and moody, and sensitive on his worst, and eventually people would get tired of the fact that he was so hard to please and so confrontational over the smallest of things. Secretly he blamed it for why he had no friends growing up, and even now why Charlie had turned to others, although he'd secretly hope that his boyfriend was a special case. But it was a wonder why Charlie had stayed so long, or Kiku associating himself with him again. And angrily he wondered when even Kiku would be pushed away.

So it was that Arthur came home after a long day of work and what had been a pleasant evening, grumpy and slightly depressed.


End file.
